


How Delicious to Corrupt

by Minxie



Series: Power Exchange [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, KINK: D/s, M/M, QAF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 11:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Making more sense now." He's talking about the headspace I fall into, when I reach that point where </i>mine<i> echoes through me. Pleased that he's noticing these things, I kiss the top of his head. A small reward, of sorts. "Is it good or bad?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	How Delicious to Corrupt

"Christ." I groan and look over at the clock. Not even eight and someone is hell bent on beating their way into the loft.

Justin, as usual, is sleeping through it. Lazy fucker.

I grab my robe and tug it on, knowing damn well it'll be Justin's mother or Debbie or some fucking Girl Scout selling cookies on the other side of the door. No one else I know would even be up at this hour.

Except, I find out as I roll the door back, Lindsay.

I look around her onto the landing. "Where the fuck's my son?"

She brushes by me muttering about Mel and parks and, Jesus, fuck, I need some coffee before this goes much further.

"Did I wake you?"

That question doesn't deserve an answer. Ignoring her, I start the coffee and then head to the bathroom. Coffee and a piss. Then I'll deal with the latest drama in Muncherland.

* * *

  
Bladder empty, clean clothes on, I stumble back towards the coffee pot. And find Lindsay holding the one thing that is absolutely none of her fucking business.

"My, aren't you a nosy Nellie today?"

She at least has the good grace to blush. And drop the paper, the finalized list of expectations, back on the counter where it was.

"Brian?"

Keeping my back to her, I pull a mug down and make a cup of coffee. "Yes?"

"Are you… is Justin…" I hear the scrape of a bar stool across my wood floors. "Do you both want it? Or is he doing this…"

One, two long swallows of coffee and I turn around. Facing her. Her eyes aren't filled with disgust or annoyance. Worry, understanding, doubt. But those are easier to overcome.

"You'd have to ask him to be sure. But — " I hold up a hand to slow down her retort " — this wasn't spur of the moment. We've talked and discussed and Justin took time to think this over."

"You're serious about him."

And this is how she managed to talk me out of my sperm. She _knows_ me.

Rolling my lips together, I nod. "Yeah."

"Good for you."

I arch a brow. "What? No comments about how I'm corrupting Justin? How I should be ashamed of myself, that with my childhood…"

"Are you abusing him?" Her words slice through my budding rant and, amazingly, render me speechless.

I shake my head.

Lindsay comes around the counter and, with one hand on my chin, tilts my head until we're eye to eye. "Are you going to listen to him when he talks?"

"Yes," I sigh. "You've made your point, Linds. Let it go."

She smiles and, dropping her hand from my face, steps back. "Still in touch with Tony and Jess?"

Fuck. I forgot I'd introduced them to her. "Yeah."

"Has Justin met them?"

A chuckle, deep and sleep-laden, sounds before I can answer. Looking up, I spot Justin coming down the stairs, a sleep rumpled mess of blond hair and too-long pajama pants.

He slowly walks to me, stealing the last of my coffee before answering Lindsay. "Yeah. You want confirmation, ask Debbie."

Then he looks up at me. "Are all of our friends going to put us through the Spanish Inquisition?"

I smirk at Lindsay. If she thinks Justin can be forced into something, she doesn't know him as well as she thinks she does.

"Can I make one suggestion then?"

Justin presses a kiss against my shoulder and then steps away, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Is it going to piss either of us off? It really is too early to be pissed off. Or on, for that matter."

The shock on Lindsay's face has me biting back a chuckle. She doesn't have a lot of experience with early morning Justin and his little habit of speaking first, thinking later.

"No, uh, it shouldn't."

Justin hands me a full cup of coffee and motions for Linds to continue.

"If Debbie knows, you really need to tell Jennifer. Mothers don't like hearing these things from someone else."

Give her a kid for a few months and she becomes an expert.

Justin blinks, coherency finally showing in his eyes. Nodding, he says, "We'll think about it."

Setting his coffee down, he leans up and starts kissing me, small chaste kisses along my neck, over my jaw, his destination clear. And then our lips crash together.

In the background I hear Lindsay saying goodbye, adding something about talking to me later. The actual words are lost to the rush of white noise that comes with kissing Justin.

* * *

  
"Lindsay may have a point." Justin drags a french fry through a puddle of ketchup and pops it in his mouth. "I should probably talk to Mom."

"Assuming Debbie hasn't called her already."

Justin snorts. "You really think my mom wouldn't have made that known already?"

"Point." The woman didn't have a bit of trouble pushing her way into my office before. I slide my cell across the table. "Invite her over for dinner."

He looks shocked. "You're going to be there?"

"I didn't let you do it alone the first time." I can't stop the glare from wrinkling my brow. "So just where the fuck do you think I'll be this time?"

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

I know he's thinking of the strain that was between us, the break-in and my blow up. Problem is, he's comparing apples to oranges.

"Yeah," I reach across the table and tap against the bruise on his neck. "Look how that turned out."

Justin blushes, drops his gaze down and smiles shyly. "Yeah, okay."

Shaking my head, I slide out of the booth, dropping a few bills on the table to cover the bill and tip. "I didn't leave you hanging then, and I won't this time."

I press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm gonna try to talk to Deb. Come get me when you're done."

"Brian." I turn around and arch a brow. "Thanks."

I cant my head in acknowledgement and then walk away. If Deb hasn't called Jennifer yet, I want to make sure she doesn't before our little family dinner. That means courting the lioness in her own den. Fucking lovely.

* * *

  
Woody's is almost too crowded. And not a trick-worthy man in sight. At least none I haven't had already. As ridiculously breeder as it sounds, ten o'clock can't come soon enough.

"Where's Justin?"

I take a sip of my beer and then line up my shot. No reason to answer Emmett too quickly. "With Daphne." Freaking out because his mother is coming over tomorrow night. "I'm picking him up later."

Watching Michael from the corner of my eye, I see the way his face pinches at the mention of Justin's name. He's in for a fucking surprise if he starts on me tonight. Because, really, after arguing with Deb, I've had enough of the Novotny logic for one day.

"What the hell did you do to piss Ma off?"

Goddammit. "Redefined some things."

"Whatever you _redefined_ has Ma in a tailspin." Frowning, he steps in closer, invades a portion of my personal space. "You need to fix it."

"Or Debbie needs to get over it." I drain my beer and, checking the time, toss the pool cue on the table. "Here it is," and I look at each of them in turn. "I'm doing exactly what I want. If everyone else can't deal with it? Too. Fucking. Bad."

"Just like you to be a selfish asshole."

I laugh at that. Not an amused laugh. But a humorless one full of disbelief. "Well, this selfish asshole is leaving now."

Ignoring the calls of _wait_ and _come back_ and _goddammit, Brian_, I walk out in the cool night wondering how much Justin will mind if I get to Daph's an hour early.

* * *

  
"Brian, let me go." Justin sighs and then tries to pull away from me again. "My mother is coming over."

I glance at the clock. "Not for another five hours and you," I lean in and nip his neck, "need to calm down."

"Sex doesn't solve everything."

"Neither does pacing a trench in my floors." Rolling my hips against him, I feel his dick start to harden. "And it seems your dick agrees with me."

"Brian!"

"Hush, Justin." He presses his lips together and glares. "The food will be here at five, Mother Taylor arrives between five-thirty and six." I brush a kiss over his forehead. "It's only one."

His dick twitches and a look of interest, mingled with a healthy dose of lust, takes over his eyes. Sighing once, Justin relaxes back into the mattress. "Okay. I'm yours."

"Good boy."

And then the little shit grins. "Until four-thirty."

I arch a brow and, rolling off of him, stand up, getting off the bed completely. Time for an object lesson. "Strip."

He wastes no time, slithering out of his tee and sweats without even getting out of the bed. His eyes darken when I toss lube and a condom on the bed.

I make a show of eying his cock and then add a band of leather to the growing pile beside him. "Put it on."

He groans. "Brian."

"Now." I keep my voice bland, hiding both my amusement and my arousal. It's building the tension with a minimum of effort and, in the end, it'll make his release that much sweeter, relax him that much more.

With shaking hands, Justin picks up the cockring and loops the first ring behind his balls and then, shuddering, the second around the base of his cock.

"Pretty." I trace a single finger around the edges of the leather. "Let's hope it helps you last."

He looks up, away from the black bands surrounding his dick. "Huh?"

Shooting him a wicked grin, I drawl, "You did say I had until four-thirty."

"Brian!" His head drops back against the pillows. "I was teasing!"

"Funny." I climb onto the end of the bed, nudge his legs until they're spread wide, and settle between them. When he looks up, I show him the vibrator in my hand, easily as wide and damn near as long as my cock. "Teasing is exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh, _fuck_."

I flip the vibrator on, run it over his balls, and smirk. "Eventually."

* * *

  
Justin is slick with sweat, his body trembling and jerking as I pull the vibrator from his ass, dragging it up and over his sac and then his dick.

"Please," he moans, eyes squeezed shut, head back, neck taut. "Need to come. I need…"

The embarrassment, the initial humiliation of being naked, of fucking himself on a vibrator while I, still dressed in half-zipped jeans and a tank, watch is gone, the embarrassment replaced by need and want strong enough to make him beg.

"Please, Brian."

It's exactly what I've been waiting for.

I keep one hand controlling the vibrator, retracing the path I just made over cock and balls, ending at the rim of his hole. All the while the other works to drop the zip on my jeans, freeing my aching cock completely, and then opening the condom, sheathing my dick first in the latex and then with a thin layer of lube.

I push the vibrator into Justin's ass, fucking him relentlessly, twisting and turning, pushing him up closer to orgasm. And then, with his hips rocking into each thrust, his cock hard and wet, I toss the vibrator to the side, replace it with my dick, grinding and slamming against him.  
His hands curl into the sheets, his back bows, and, just as I unsnap the cockring and wrap my hand around his cock, he moans — _oh, shit_ — and jerks, shooting a stream of hot spunk over his stomach.

Christ. I catch my bottom lip with my teeth, biting down, focusing on the stinging pain as I ride out his orgasm, hips undulating with a slow, steady rhythm as his body tenses and then relaxes again.

"Too much." He moves his hands, starts to push against my wrist, stopping only when I growl.

Pleased, I tighten my grasp on his dick. "Not even the beginning. One more, boy."

"I can't."

His body belies the words; his dick, covered in come and still mostly hard, twitches in my hand.

"You will." Oh, will he ever.

My thrusts increase, become faster and harder and _uncontrolled_. My hand matching the pace of my hips, I keep tugging on his cock, demanding his body follow mine. Sweat rolls off my brow, over my cheeks, down my chest. With every slam forward, every time I bury myself deeper inside him, the sweat drips off me and onto Justin, mingling with the sweat and come covering his stomach.

Justin shudders, a slight tremble working its way through his body, from his feet to his thighs, up into his chest and his arms. "_Fuck…_"

Then he shatters, eyes blown and glassy, focused on nothing as he shakes, writhing beneath me as he comes completely fucking apart.

He's babbling, a stream of nonsense with words like _love_ and _forever_ and _Jesus, fuck, now_. Then his dick spasms, releases another small spurt of come as his ass clenches around me, and my orgasm crashes over me, through me.

"Brian," he sighs and finally looks at me, eyes clearing from the haze of lust and sex.

And the emotion there, the vulnerability, the fucking unadulterated trust makes my breath hitch.

* * *

  
"I thought the agreement was you would be living with Debbie."

There it is. Twenty minutes in and Jennifer is jumping in head fucking first.

"Brian and I have been," Justin looks over at me, a cocky little smirk dancing around the edges of his mouth, "negotiating."

Jennifer looks from Justin to me and then back to him. Her head never moving, just her eyes darting between the two of us. "Negotiating?"

"Compromising," I add, tired of being outside a conversation that is, at its most basic, about me.

Now her penetrating stare is solely for me. "Compromising?"

Christ. She's turned into a fucking parrot.

"Yes."

She takes a sip of wine, a small bite of salad. "And what, exactly, is there to negotiate?"

"Our relationship."

I have to force myself not to react to that statement. And the way Justin is watching me, he knows it. Fucking twat.

"Relationship?"

And we're back to the parrot routine. Joy. Pushing back from the table, I walk over to my desk, knock a cigarette from the pack. "Just ask and get it over with."

Jennifer nods once, eyes never leaving Justin's face. "What do you want with my son?"

Simple answer? Everything. But not the one to blurt out right now. The first time I say that out loud will be for Justin only.

"I care about him." I pull a drag from the cigarette. "We care about each other."

That gets a reaction. A small, almost barely noticeable jerk. A tensing of her shoulders.

"And we want to investigate the possibilities."

"Okay." Her back straightens and, after draining her wine, she looks at me. "You didn't feel the need to tell me before, not when you were sleeping with my son the first time. Why now?"

"Mom!"

"Justin," I murmur. "Stop."

To his credit, he does. Immediately.

My gut clenches as a smug look crosses Jennifer's face. She's talked to Debbie. I'd lay money on it. And now she is just waiting to pounce. But only if I don't first.

"To be blunt, he was just a fuck then."

Color blossoms over Justin's face but he holds his head high, maintains eye contact with Jennifer. Good boy.

"What is he now?" Jennifer pushes her chair away from the table, scraping and scratching the legs over my wood floors. "A maid? An employee?" She crosses her arms and drops her voice to a whisper, a near hiss, "A concubine?"

I roll my lips together, bite down on the angry retort brewing just below the surface, and snatch a book off the coffee table. Something that Justin found during his research. One that I wish I had found years ago for Debbie: _When Someone You Love is Kinky_.

With a sardonic chuckle, I walk towards her and toss it on the dining table. "For Justin's sake, I hope that you read that, make use of the names and numbers I added at the back. Learn something instead of basing your opinions on comments from outsiders."

She blanches and I know I've scored a point. A point that means despite my request, Debbie once again stepped in, barreled into a situation that wasn't hers to begin with.

"However, for now," and I look at Justin, get a slight nod of agreement from him, "you need to leave. I will not let anyone, especially not his mother, come into his home and malign him or his choices."

Pissed, Jennifer's face flushes red. "Malign? How dare…"

"Easily." I cut her off and then turn my attention to Justin. "I'm going to give you two a few minutes alone. Come get me if you need me." I brush a kiss over his forehead. "We'll clean up when we're alone, okay?"

Justin leans into my touch, and then straightens again, the pain of the confrontation hidden in the depths of his eyes. "Yeah."

One more kiss and I step back, walking away without acknowledging Jennifer again.

I look over my shoulder when I reach the bedroom and grimace. All of the relaxation, the easy line of Justin's shoulders and back, everything achieved with our afternoon in bed has been replaced with a visible tension.

Just fucking great.

* * *

  
"She's gone." Justin drops down on the bed beside me, turning and curling into my side.

"Kind of figured that with the sudden silence." I rub a hand over his back. "Do you two always fight so politely?"

He huffs a laugh, a burst of warm, moist air pushing against my neck. "I guess so. She is my mother."

"Mm. She is." And after watching them square off against each other, I can't help but question the strength, or lack thereof, of Craig's genetic contribution. Justin Taylor is his mother's son through and through. "So, how come you're not that polite when we argue?"

"Asshole." He lands a soft slap on my stomach, shoulders shaking as he giggles, the latest confrontation, the latest upheaval in his life pushed to the back burner for now.

I smack him on the ass. "Let's go, Justin. There's cleaning to be done."

* * *

  
"A date?"

Smirking, I point to the clothes, wordlessly prompting him to get fucking dressed. "We did agree to those, right?"

"We agreed to a lot of things." Justin shoots me a shy smile as he picks up the outfit.

And that sounds like we are in need of talking. I arch one brow and ask, "Justin?"

He shakes his head. "Not right now, Brian. I want my date."

Greedy fucker. "Really?"

"Yup." He buttons and zips the black dress pants, slips the shimmering red shirt over his head. "Gonna tell me where we're going?"

Straight to bed if we don't get the hell out of here fucking fast. The boy looks good in clubbing clothes, but, _Christ_ right now, dressed in form fitting pants and a dress shirt, I want to fuck him. Senseless.

"Brian?"

Smirking, I grab his elbow and lead him to the door, talking as we take the stairs to the ground floor. "Dinner, just the two of us. Then I thought we'd meet Tony and Jess at the Eagle."

His eyes sparkle, curiosity and interest flooding them. "The Eagle?"

"Yes, twat." I almost cringe at the softness behind the word. "You're eighteen now, you can get in."

Then I picture Justin at the Eagle, on the upper floors, in the private rooms. Bound. Hard. Begging. All things that he's not ready for tonight, but each of them a moment that is sure to come.

Groaning, I ease the jeep into traffic. I'm torturing myself, teasing myself with something that I know is still out of reach. Because, obviously, I wasn't hard enough, aroused enough already.

* * *

  
Drink in hand — club soda with a twist of lime — I try picturing the Eagle from Justin's point of view. The various states of dress, the leather, the collars. Masters, slaves, Dominants, submissives. All things we've talked about, none he's experienced outside the protected world we've created with Tony and Jess.

His eyes go wide when a submissive, obviously breaking one of their rules, is pulled over his Domme's lap, ass bared and spanked. With a strap. I drop my hand to the back of his neck and squeeze, direct his body closer to me.

Even on my first visit, I wasn't as innocent as he is. To be honest, I don't know if I ever was.

My thoughts are interrupted with a single word. "No."

I jerk my eyes away from Justin and, arching a brow, look at Tony.

"I doubt you were that green coming out of the womb."

Rolling my eyes, I snort. "Funny."

He shrugs. "Whatever, Kinney. You know it's true."

Knowing it doesn't mean I want to give it words, make it real. It's just one more thing that makes me question Justin's drive to be with me. Makes me wonder if part of the attraction is the bad boy image, something that he will tire of, eventually outgrow.

"Stop thinking so much."

"I'm not." The retort is automatic and it's Tony's turn to arch a brow.

"I know you, kid. Don't forget that." Tony gives me a small smile, taking the sting out of his words, and then cants his head towards Justin. "That should answer your question."

Frowning, I glance down, looking for whatever caught Tony's interest. It doesn't take long for me to figure out what it is.

The wonder is still in Justin eyes but it's overshadowed now. Lust. Desire. _Want._ I follow his line of sight and, _holy shit_…

"Justin?"

His eyes dart up to me and then right back to the scene playing out on the other side of the room. "Yeah?"

I bite back a chuckle. So much for his ridiculously high verbal skills. I slowly shift him around. Lifting and turning, scooting us both, until Justin is sitting in my lap, back pressed against my chest, ass pushing down on my cock, eyes still glued to the entertainment.

And then, hand palming his dick, I start talking.

"What is it, Justin? What's got you so fucking hard?"

He tenses, back going rigid, and then, when I give his dick a squeeze, he relaxes again.

"Is it the guy?" The fucker is hot.

"Or the situation he's found himself in?" That's pretty hot too.

Justin gurgles and nods. "The sit… situation."

Well now. I can work with that. "Are you picturing yourself naked, bent over a bench, bound and gagged, your dick pressing against the edge of the wood, no hope in hell of finding friction, of being able to rub off until you come?" I lean in closer, drop my voice to a whisper, "Being paddled and opened and fucked… all in a room full of strangers?"

He shakes his head and then, just as quick, changes it to a nod. "Brian…"

"Because that is what's coming next. He's going to get fucked." Justin rocks his hips up, pushing his dick into my hand, and then down, rubbing his ass over my cock. "Long, deep, slow thrusts. Or maybe hard and fast. However his Master wants it is how it will be."

Justin whines and jerks his hips faster, working towards creaming his cargos.

I'm not stopping until he shoots.

"He has no choice about it, no control over it. He gave that over and look what it got him." I tighten my grip on his dick, tug in tandem with his thrusting, and move my other hand from his hip to his chest, teasing and pinching his nipple, drawing it into a taut peak beneath the red silk shirt. "His ass is red, hot and stinging. His dick is hard, leaking, untouched. Begging with eyes for something, for _anything_."

Justin starts trembling, tries to curl forward into my hands. I slip my hand from his chest up, covering his mouth, blocking the noises I know he'll make when he comes. Those are mine and mine alone.

I draw him back with my hand, forcing his head to my shoulder, and whisper, "Watch. Keep your eyes open and let yourself fall, Justin."

And he does. Just as a hard cock slams into the boy across the room, Justin moans, the sound vibrating against the palm of my hand, and, his back stiff, he comes, flooding his pants with a wet heat that seeps through to my skin.

Groaning, I bite his neck and concentrate on keeping my orgasm at bay. The boy is going to kill me.

Seconds pass then Justin turns in my lap and buries his face against me, his breath coming in erratic huffs across my neck.

My hands move over him, gently stroking along the length of his spine and over his arm, calming, soothing, praising.

I press a chaste kiss to his forehead and, voice gruff with arousal and pride, murmur, "Well done, boy."

* * *

  
Breakfast over, dishes washed, and Justin grabs my robe and leads me to the sofa. I don't know if I should be annoyed that he didn't simply ask or pleased that he knows I won't refuse his need to talk. All of this is still new enough I'm going with pleased, leaving the discussion about manhandling me for later.

It takes a few minutes to get settled, to quiet our bodies down and reach the point of easy conversation.

I'm sure he wants, needs to talk about last night. The question is… what about it? The things he witnessed? The wanton way he responded? Something I did or said? Or should have done?

I wait him out, let him start when he's ready. Thankfully it doesn't take him too long.

"You change, you know?"

Huh? That's a hell of an opening statement. "Huh?"

He looks up and grins.

Brat. "I need more than that, Justin."

"During sex. You change." He breaks eye contact, tucks his head beneath my chin. "I mean, around here, with the clothes and the journaling, with all of that stuff you're… you. Demanding, in charge, whatever. But when we have sex, you're different."

"Making more sense now." He's talking about the headspace I fall into, when I reach that point where _mine_ echoes through me. Pleased that he's noticing these things, I kiss the top of his head. A small reward, of sorts. "Is it good or bad?"

"Hot. It's hot."

And, yeah, now I'm smirking. There's nothing else to do with that comment.

"Your voice goes deep and husky, eyes get darker." He tilts his head back and looks at me. "You call me boy."

"I do." I study his face, looking for hesitation, any distaste. "Does it bother you?"

A fast blush steals over his cheeks. "No. It's just — " he pauses, blinks once, " — intense."

Humming agreement, I say, "There's a lot of people who'd say what we're doing in general is intense."

Justin muffles a chuckle against my chest.

"What?"

"Well, I'd say your neat freak thing is anal. But otherwise…"

"Smart ass." I smack the ass in question. "So intense but not bad?"

"Not bad." He shifts around, turning in my arms until he's straddling my lap. "You made me come…"

The words fade and his blush darkens. Jesus. The appearance of innocence masking what I know to be a hedonistic slut.

"Come in your pants like an errant school boy?"

"Yeah."

I shrug, unapologetic. "It was hot."

"Yeah." He leans forward, our cocks brushing together, and presses his lips over the pulse point in my neck. The serious part of the conversation is clearly over. Justin started it and, now that he's dealt with whatever was bugging him, he's ending it, moving on to more alluring things. "You gonna do it again?"

"I don't know." I tip my head back, giving him more access. "I pretty much wanted to fuck you blind right there."

"Why didn't you?"

And here comes the obvious difference between then and now. Because before I'd have fucked him without a second thought. "We hadn't talked about it."

"Mm." He rolls his hips and my dick hardens, anticipation of fucking him through the mattress, of spending a lazy day marking and exploring working its way through me. "Well, if, when we go back to the Eagle, I'd be okay with that."

Fuck. Just… fuck.

"Okay with riding my dick right there at table, in front of Tony and Jess and whoever else happens by?"

He slithers off my lap, down to the vee between my legs, and, opening my robe, mouths the head of my dick. Looking up, eyes peeking through his hair, he asks, "I'm yours, right?"

"Yeah." Oh, yeah.

"Then prove it next time."

And, with _that_ image dancing through my mind, the little shit swallows around my cock.

* * *

  
"There's a Jennifer Taylor here to see you, Brian."

Last thing I need this morning. But completely unavoidable.

"Send her in, Cynthia."

I debate about moving from behind my desk, of meeting Jennifer on even ground, and then reject it. She's here, invading my domain without an invitation. Let her deal with the consequences of that.

"Mrs. Taylor."

"Brian." She shuts the door behind her but doesn't sit down. "I read that book you gave me."

Interesting. I was betting against that. "Justin."

"What?"

"Justin found that book for you. Thought it might make a difference."

"But you…" Jennifer steps closer, moves to the nearest chair and sits, perches right on the edge, a pensive look wrinkling her brow.

Her face is just as expressive as Justin's and I know the information, the knowledge that _Justin_ wanted her to understand, has thrown her for the proverbial loop.

First score goes to me. Good.

I roll my lips together. Waiting. Knowing it will unnerve her even more. And I want her unnerved, uncomfortable. I want her to feel what Justin felt the other night, when he invited her in only to be shut down, be called no better than a high-class whore. Petty of me, perhaps.

But damn sure satisfying.

The minutes tick off in a strained silence and then she sighs, breaks. "Why, Brian?"

I arch a brow. "Gonna have to be more specific than that, Mrs. Taylor."

"Why Justin? Why — " and she opens her purse, retrieves the book Justin bought for her, " — this?"

"It's what we both want. Believe it or not, a lot of thought went into this decision." I refuse to give her any more than that. Being party to private thoughts, being considered a confidant is earned. And Jennifer Taylor has miles to go before that will happen.

"He's too young to know what he wants."

A chuckle escapes before I can stop it. Too young? Does she know her headstrong son at all?

"Brian," she leans forward, her eyes pleading with me to do _something_, "he's only eighteen."

"Age didn't seem to be a factor when you stood by and let your husband kick Justin out of your home." Pushing to a stand, I skirt around my desk and to the office door. Opening it, making a not so subtle indication that this discussion is over, I say, "And his age isn't the issue now."

She flushes a deep pink. Second score is mine too.

"Brian…"

"Would you like for me to call someone to escort you to the elevators?"

Purse in hand, she silently walks past me and through the door.

Meeting adjourned.

* * *

  
Everyone is talking about the King of Babylon contest. Not like anyone will remember the kid's name a week from now. "Who cares about a bunch of steroid gym bunnies dancing around in their shorts, anyway?"

"Considering you fucked all of last year's contestants? You?" Deb cracks from behind the counter. Maybe, hopefully that means she's over the worst of her snit.

"Who would do that?" Justin looks over his shoulder, eyes meeting mine for a fraction of a second. He's thinking about our night at the Eagle. And all the flesh that was on display there. I can see it in his eyes, and, from the way he's angling himself towards the back counter, he's fucking hard.

Before I can say anything, Michael asks, "Who wouldn't fuck Brian?"

"No," Justin shakes his head, ignoring the slight jealousy in Michael's tone. "I meant stripping in front of all of those people?"

"I don't know, Sunshine," I drawl. "I bet there are quite a few people who'd love to see that ass of yours up close and personal."

And after the offers we got at the Eagle, Justin knows just how true that statement is.

He blushes a dark shade of red. "Don't be an ass, Brian."

"I always say if you got it, flaunt it. And you," I lean over the counter and make a show of ogling his ass before sitting back with a smirk, "definitely got it."

* * *

  
Dragging Justin to the bar, I push a bottle of water into his hands. "What?"

"What?"

"You're thinking about something. You never think when we're here." And it's true. Babylon, music, grinding on the dance floor. It usually adds up to a carefree, horny Justin. But not tonight. "What is it?"

"Do you want to come to my prom with me?"

I look down at him and frown. Not what I expected. "As what? Your chaperone?"

He rolls his eyes and, hips moving to the beat, says, "As my date."

"Huh. I'd love to — " I really would. But…

"Yeah?"

…there is no way in hell I'll bring that shitstorm down on him this close to graduation. " — but my prom dress is still at the dry cleaners."

"Brian!"

"Justin," I whine right back at him. "It's not a good idea. Take some girl. Surely there are a few munchers around that place. Take one of them. It'd be a good match."

"I don't want to go with some girl." He looks out onto the dance floor and then back at me. "I want to go with someone I care about. And if that happens to be a guy…"

"Justin," I sigh, knowing damn good and well that I'll be at that fucking prom. Would have even before he turned the begging blue eyes of doom on me. Then, with Sheba's voice echoing through Babylon, announcing the first King of Babylon contestant, an idea sparks.

No reason I shouldn't get something out of this too.

Rolling my lips together, I look around the club. "Tell you what, we can make a trade."

"A trade?" He looks wary. Good.

"Yeah." I point over to the stage. "A dance for a dance."

"Huh?"

"Give me a show tonight — " I lean forward and lick along his neck before adding " — and I'll give you _one_ dance at your prom."

"That easy?"

Nodding, I agree. Besides, it'll ease him into being half-dressed in room full of strangers.

"Deal." He flashes one of his best smiles, and then leans in, brushing his lips over my cheek. "Next time you see me, I'll be wearing a crown."

I don't doubt it. Pushing him away, I land a soft blow on his ass. "Go on, twat."

* * *

  
"May I have your attention, boys and boys?"

Anticipation races up my spine. Everyone on the posted list, plus my own contribution of Dr. Dave, has danced. This has to be Justin.

"The next contestant loves the Powerpuff Girls, margaritas, and older men. And, let me tell you," Sheba gives the crowd an exaggerated leer, "from the mark on his neck, the love of older men is definitely appreciated."

Laughter ripples through the crowd and then Sheba looks directly at me. All I do is smirk.

"Here's Justin!"

The light focuses in on the stage and, one hand on a cowboy hat, the other resting on his belt, Justin starts rocking his hips to the beat, turning a perfect circle while his bubble butt teases and tantalizes. The little shit is good. He has every fag in the place clapping and drooling.

He's damn sure got me hard.

From the stage, Justin glances to the bar, finds me through the crowd. I raise my beer in salute, in promise. Then the straining beat of the music fades just enough to let the words blare through.

_He's a cool, blond scheming trick…_

And I burst out laughing, shocking everyone standing near me. Scheming trick, indeed.

He'll definitely get his fucking prom dance. He's earned a reward for this.

* * *

  
As soon as our kiss ends, I pull him through the crowd and out of the room. We're laughing and dancing, spinning around the garage; I feel like it's _my_ prom, like I'm fucking eighteen again.

We're feeding off each other, both caught up in the high of the moment.

If Justin had any questions about my feelings, if the fact that we're building this… thing together isn't enough, he got his answer, his confirmation tonight. I doubt there is anyone in there, anyone who watched us move together, so in synch it hurts, who doesn't know I love him.

I push him against the jeep, using the scarf like a leash, holding him in place as I move in closer.

His eyes sparkle as he looks up at me. "It's the best night of my life."

"Even if it was ridiculously romantic." I lean in, then hesitate, looking in his eyes. I see it there. He knows, reads the feelings in my eyes.

And then I kiss him. Tender. Gentle. More about emotion than sex. Just like the one on the dance floor.

Time ticks off, quiet seconds while we simply look at each other.

It's time for me to go. To let him go back and get Daph, drive her home like a good little date, and then return his mother's car.

Twenty minutes, thirty tops, and I'll be picking him up at his mother's.

It's the knowledge of what's waiting, of the private mini-prom I have planned at the loft that gets me moving.

"Later," and I pull my hand away, letting the scarf drift between my fingers.

My promise, my emotion is reflected in his eyes. "Later."

Sliding into the jeep, I watch him in the side mirror as he walks away, smile when he stretches his arms out and then lets them fall again, scarf ends clasped in each hand.

Then someone steps into the way, blocking my view. It takes a minute until I recognize him. That fuckwad from Liberty, the one who has made Justin's year hell.

And he's got a goddamn baseball bat.

Jumping out of the jeep, I start to run towards them. _Christ_, he's too far away. I won't reach Justin before Hobbs will, there's no fucking way I can get there in time.

I do the only thing I can…

"Justin!"

 

_…to be continued in…_  
**The One Who Loves You Will Make You Weep**

 

Note: As this AU weaves in and out of canon, some lines of dialogue will be taken directly from the show. This is the first section where that has happened. The scenes used are from episode 120 and 122. As you may have noticed, even with using the lines, the scenes and timelines surrounding them have been tweaked. Except, of course, for the garage sequence. ♥ 


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